Page 135 of A Convenient Secret
He pulls a small velvet box from his pocket. “You can fucking have the ring.” He pushes it into his brother’s hands.
“What’s going on?” Declan’s mother shows up, and her two sons straighten up a bit.
She looks from one to the other. Jesus, out of all the places, this had to happen at her event. As if the situation needed a bit more drama.
“Nothing. I’m leaving.” Declan strides away, but stops and snatches my hand. “Weare leaving.”
I can barely keep up with him as he drags me away from the onlookers. We cross the dining room amid several curious gazes from other guests.
I try to smile at them, but then I give up and bowmy head. We don’t look like we’re leaving. It looks more like he’s kidnapping me.
“Declan,” I plead when we turn the corner, heading toward the main exit.
“Not now,” he snaps. “Not yet.”
The wait for the car takes the longest five minutes of my life. Each moment moves slowly, wrapped in tension. Declan paces a bit, then he stands beside me. Not touching me. Then he paces a bit more.
I want to say something, but I think it’s best to let him work through his rage first. I should have told him everything earlier.
I thought at first our union was temporary. And then a cowardly part of me thought it would never get to this. That was naïve.
But at the end of the day, I was worried about his reaction. It looks like that worry was warranted.
Declan halts and whips around to look at me. He opens his mouth, and then shakes his head like he’s changed his mind. He remains silent.
The car finally comes. Declan opens the door for me, and as I step closer he puts one hand on the small of my back, and the other one on the door opening to protect my head.
I cherish that small gesture even more, given the current temperature of our relationship.
“Mr. Quinn, is it true you secretly married LilianaSpinelli?” someone calls out.
I turn to see who it is, but I’m immediately blinded by several flashes. Declan swears under his breath and steps behind me, his back to the quickly growing group of paparazzi.
I slide into the car, and he follows quickly after. The flashes continue to blink as the car tries to merge into the traffic.
Driving in this car for several weeks now, I never realized how large it truly is. Declan watches the streets, pressed against the door, as far from me as possible.
I can’t stand it. Yes, I should—could—have told him sooner, but I don’t deserve to be treated like a contagious disease.
“Say something,” I urge.
He turns to me, his gaze blazing with all sorts of emotions. And while their range may be quite wide, I desperately search for affection.
“You know what I liked about you when you first crashed into my life? That raw honesty about you… In a way, you challenged me as a parent, but also praised me. That honesty in admitting when you felt vulnerable or out of scope. Your honesty in admitting the mix-up with my nanny. Honesty…”
I swallow, pain searing my throat. “You knew there was more behind the fake glasses. But it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you sooner.”
“And then you went and told the entire group. Only because of the pictures, so I can’t be sure you would have even tried to tell me.”
I see his point. Maybe it wasn’t the best course of action to explain it at the table. But it felt safe. “I told you this morning I wanted to tell you.”
“Why did you marry me?”
Okay, that’s not what I expected. “To help you with the custody battle.”
“Just like that?” he snarls.
Don’t do this, I sigh inwardly. “Just because.”
